Four-Faceted Diamond
by Saerzion
Summary: Mahariel, Amell, Tabris, and Cousland are four incarnations of one Warden, each with an untold past in love and loss. Delve into the history of these women to learn who they were before the fateful day of conscription, why they fight for their own reasons, and what it is they have in common through the facets of a precious gemstone.


**A/N:** Former fill for the kink meme. I started this over a year ago and never finished it on the meme, so I'm working on it now for FF and AO3. Basically, the prompt asked for a deeper look into each of the origin relationships. I have to exclude the dwarf origins and the elf mage origin since I haven't played those, but given my tendency to abandon ship after the first few chapters of any fic I write, it's probably best that I keep this story as short as possible.

x-x-x-x-x

**- I -**

**The Hunter**

Eyes sharp, aim true. The arrow shot across the grove and impaled the fox on the bark of the nearest tree, with nary a drop of blood spilled. Her companions whooped and cheered behind her as she lowered the bow and grinned. Once again, she had beaten the other two in precision, number of kills, and sheer style.

Fenarel clapped her on the shoulder, beaming. "Nice work, Lyna. At this rate, you'll have a bride in no time."

She shoved him back in a playful manner as they made their way toward the latest kill. "Hilarious. Maybe if you were as good on the bow as I am, you'd already have one. Then again, it would take a woman with thick skin and an even thicker head to wed you."

"In that case, please marry me."

"Please keep talking like that so I have a valid excuse to use you for target practice."

"As long as you do so after becoming my wife, I'm fine with that stipulation."

Her snarky response was denied when their third companion came up and wedged himself between them while they walked.

"So," said Tamlen, smirking as one end of the animal carcass he carried over his shoulders thumped Fenarel on the back of the head, "are you looking forward to the festivities tonight, lethallan?"

Lyna shrugged, securing her bow onto her back and sending him a wry smile. "If you mean Maren and Junar's engagement celebration, during which many people have vowed to set me up for romantic scandal with the clan's new city-born whelp, then not really."

Fenarel wandered over to her other side, shooting Tamlen a baleful look. "Well, at least Pol is better off than the rest of the flat ears at that rotting alienage. But I agree. You're far too good for him."

Lyna shook her head. "That isn't it," she told him as they reached the fox, and she kneeled down to pluck it from the tree. "I already have my eye on someone, but they don't seem to consider my feelings seriously."

She sent a discreet glance toward Tamlen, who suddenly became preoccupied with some invisible item of interest in the grass. Typical. It was probably best to just drop the whole matter for good since her unrequited emotions were starting to chafe after years of disappointment. Besides, their friendship meant more to her than anything else.

And Fenarel, as usual, remained blissfully ignorant.

"But Lyna, I _do_ consider your feelings seriously. I even said you should marry me—"

"Shut up, Fenarel."

The hours flew by once they returned to the campgrounds, and as soon as afternoon faded into dusk, the forest came to life. The roaring blaze of the bonfire lit the center of the Sabrae clan's camp, casting flickering shadows over the elves singing, dancing, and feasting in honor of the newly engaged couple. Maren and Junar sat together at the head of the long wooden table, chatting with friends and toasting to everything as they grew more intoxicated.

Hahren Paivel had situated himself at the other side of the fire, weaving an enthusiastic tale about the glory of a legendary Dalish hero to a group of wide-eyed youngsters. The older adolescents either participated in the music, practiced their archery, or attempted—and failed—to sneak a swig of alcohol right under Merrill's nose. Keeper Marethari and Ashalle stood together near the halla pen, deep in relaxed conversation as they observed the energy that had taken over the area.

Lyna watched her kills of the day roasting on the spit a distance away from the table. She leaned against a tree at the base of their grounds, hoping to evade her self-appointed matchmakers by keeping a lookout for signs of trouble. Tamlen was nowhere in sight, having disappeared once they'd returned from hunting. She folded her arms over her chest and rotated her position to survey the woods, almost hoping for a predatory animal to appear and distract her from her thoughts.

Someone approached her from behind.

"Are you really going to spend the evening back here by yourself?" Fenarel asked, speech slightly slurred from drink.

She didn't bother turning around as he staggered to her and draped himself over her back, nuzzling the nape of her neck with his face. The darkening sky hid them in shadows and lent a somber atmosphere to their vicinity. She sighed and leaned her head back to bump his.

"Dare I request that you go back to the party of your own accord, or do you intend to be a handful?" she inquired dryly.

He responded by wrapping his arms around her and burying his nose in her short auburn hair. "So that night together really meant nothing to you?" he murmured.

She tried to step away, but his hold had locked her in place. "It was a one-time thing. You're one of my best friends, Fenarel. I'd like it to stay that way, is all."

"Then why doesn't that apply to Tamlen?"

She stiffened. "He and I haven't done anything."

"Yes, but he's the one you're pining after, isn't he? I only _pretend_ to be oblivious, Lyna."

Well, she could admit she hadn't given him much credit in that regard. And she supposed that his relentless pursuit of her was partially her fault for agreeing to be "each other's first" the previous year. Still, she had been rejecting him quite clearly ever since, and it had reached a point where his feelings had become nothing short of troublesome. Perhaps much like her feelings were a burden on Tamlen.

"It doesn't matter. He isn't interested in me, I'm not interested in you, so all three of us are better off just keeping everything platonic," she stated with more acidity than she'd intended.

Unfazed by the venom in her voice, he simply tightened his embrace, quiet for a few seconds as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. Through him she saw the reflection of her own tragic love, pathetic and unwanted but difficult to suppress and dismiss. It pained her to witness him struggling with the knowledge that she would never reciprocate his affection, but if she began to pity him, she would essentially be pitying herself, and that was something she could not accept.

"All right," he finally spoke, "I promise to stop chasing after you and settle for merely being your friend once again. But," he straightened and brought his lips to the side of her neck, refusing to let her go, "could I at least have one more night?"

Both the request and the feeling of his hot breath on her skin startled her. She started to resist earnestly, attempting to pry his arms off as he bit down on her flesh hard enough to leave a bruise. "Fenarel, you're drunk. Don't do this. It's not you."

"I know. It's not me. It's never me. It's always Tamlen your eyes go after," he grumbled, running his tongue over the kiss mark now glowing red against her pasty complexion. "Why am I not good enough for you, emma lath?" _My love._

Lyna had no choice. Taking advantage of his compromised reflexes, she hooked her right leg around his and jerked it out from under him. He would have taken her down with him as he fell, but she slipped away the instant his hold loosened. He landed on his side with a grunt, the impact cushioned by the soft grass. She rubbed the spot on her neck with exasperation and shot him an annoyed glare before reaching down to help him up.

"Really, Fenarel. You should know better," she scolded as he took her outstretched hand and allowed her to yank him to his feet.

He gave her a crooked smile, one that spoke of sadness and defeat. "Sorry. I had to try." His fingers came up to graze the side of her face. "Very well, Lyna, I give up. You'll have no trouble from me from now on. But should you change your mind, don't hesitate to let me know."

The corner of her mouth quirked despite herself, and she stayed still as he leaned over to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. Then, with a sportsman's grin and a small wave, he left. She stared after his retreating form and then looked away, feeling regretful and relieved at the same time. With luck, they could put the past year behind them and move on. They owed each other that much.

She resumed her original post by the tree and toyed with the laces of her leather vest as her eyes strayed to a trodden path that cut through the thicket. A long-cherished memory rose to the surface at the sight, pushing all thoughts of Fenarel from her mind. As if it had been yesterday, she saw two orphaned children scampering down that route, both frantic and out of breath as their vision raked the ground. They had combed almost the entire forest, just one little boy and girl, but neither slowed down even after hours had passed, for desperation disguised the pull of fatigue.

Lyna gazed down the path, remembering the sunlit meadow she and Tamlen had reached at the other end during their tireless search many years ago. She recalled the brief, awestruck moment she'd experienced at the breathtaking scenery, followed by Tamlen's continued wails that had tugged at her heart.

"_I have to find it… I can't have lost it…" he had wept, falling to his hands and knees. "My mother's keepsake…"_

She hadn't understood its significance at the time, but when she assured him of her intention to stay with him until they found it, he had lifted his face to regard her with a combination of anguish and mania. Even etched into the features of a child, it left a significant impact.

She had never forgotten that look.

Lyna could replay those subsequent hours in her head with clarity, but more so the instant the Creators had seen fit to grant them a miracle. She'd spotted something sparkling on the bank of a nearby stream and hurried to retrieve it. Although Tamlen hadn't given her a description to go on, she knew at once she'd found what he sought. The realization of the keepsake's nature had struck her speechless. A nearly perfect, uncut, two carat diamond.

Tamlen had been overjoyed. He had thanked her profusely, clutching the precious gemstone to his chest and regarding her with such an expression of heartfelt gratitude and appreciation that she'd forgotten how to breathe. The sun had shone through the clouds that afternoon, casting Tamlen's golden hair in an angelic radiance as he peered with reverence at his mother's memento.

"_This diamond is second only to my life."_

Lyna had been smitten ever since.

She shook herself out of her reminiscing and stretched as the festive event continued behind her, contemplating retiring to bed early. Night had fallen and swallowed the woods in darkness, and she estimated one or two more hours until everyone else began turning in. Had she been feeling more sociable, she would have partaken in at least one drink before heading off to sleep, but the mood failed to strike her.

The grass gave beneath her soft footsteps as she wandered through the swaying foliage. A group of fellow hunters on watch nodded when they passed her during their walk around the perimeter. She continued on toward the tents at the east end of the camp, listening to the sounds of celebration lessening in the distance. The weak luminescence eventually faded into black, and her ears suddenly picked up a pair of quiet voices murmuring near Master Ilen's crafting wagon up ahead. She recognized them at once, her heart giving a little flip as she came to a stop behind a thick tree trunk nearby.

"Thank you, Master Ilen." The flame of a torch came to life and illuminated Tamlen's face in orange tones. "Oh wow, they look perfect."

"Well, of course," the craftsman grumped. "Nothing I make is anything less."

Lyna strained to see the subject of their conversation, but it was eclipsed from view.

"I certainly appreciate the favor," Tamlen went on, examining something in his palm. "I wouldn't have trusted anyone else to cut my mother's diamond."

It took her a full ten seconds to process those latter words. _Wait, _that _diamond?_

"What?" she blurted, striding out from her hiding place to advance on the two startled men. "Tamlen, what have you done to your mother's keepsake?"

He sent her a strange look as the older man cleared his throat and shoved the torch into Tamlen's free hand.

"Seeing as how I have no desire to involve myself in the affairs of youth, I'll take my leave now," Ilen announced before slipping away.

Lyna halted across from her friend, vision locked onto the item concealed in his closed fist. "What is Master Ilen talking about? What were you two up to?"

Tamlen sighed with exasperation, eyes going skyward at her questions. "You certainly have awful timing, you know that?"

"Oh? Did I catch you doing something you shouldn't?"

"Maybe," Tamlen replied, though his mouth quirked. "I thought you'd be busy skulking around somewhere, on ever-vigilant guard."

"I was. And then I was on my way to bed when I came across a suspicious scene and heard some troubling things about a particular keepsake," Lyna returned. "Tamlen, did I hear correctly? You had Master Ilen cut the diamond?"

She studied his face in the flickering light, finding none of the distress she remembered from their childhood. He stared back at her in contemplation, his gray irises bright and stormy. The silence stretched on and strained her patience. She knew how much he had cherished it, witnessed firsthand his reaction to losing it. To make a decision to alter it now, he must have had a significant reason. And then, eyes shifting down, he opened his fist.

Lyna's lips parted at the studded diamond earrings sitting in his palm. The torch light reflected off their surfaces, shining and glimmering with a clarity almost surreal. Like facets of fire.

"You had it split and set into earrings?" she asked, curiosity still not sated. "Why?"

Tamlen regarded her with a new intensity as he placed the torch on the wagon's holder and reached for her face. "Well, the woman I've been hoping to court deserves only the best." His touch on her earlobe sent a jolt up her spine. "You were never alone in your affections, Lyna. It's just that I wanted to wait until I figured out the best courting gift to give you. But as usual, you manage to ruin the surprise."

She was torn between issuing a smart-mouthed remark and struggling to breathe, so she merely choked on air in response.

Without saying anything else, Tamlen removed her standard silver earrings and replaced them with the heavy diamond studs. Lyna felt the physical weight of the jewelry, but another type of weight lifted from her spirit. Her mind raced to keep up with this turn of events, her heart racing even faster as her love for him bloomed in full. If this was a dream, she hoped to dream it forever, but his next action proved that reality was better.

His kiss was tentative, uncertain, and inexperienced, but the underlying passion simmering beneath his lips stirred her to reciprocate immediately. Her arms came up to snake around his neck as his hands tangled in her hair to cradle her head. They established the relationship in the following minutes, communicating their emotions through the fervent kisses and fierce embrace. When she finally drew back, the sight of his flushed countenance only incited her further.

Grasping for words, she quipped, "You know… Fenarel could have stolen me away while you were twiddling your thumbs."

"I wasn't too worried."

"Is that so? Thought you'd string me along forever, did you?"

"No, it's just that… it's _Fenarel_."

"Fine, good point." Lyna smiled, tracing his jawline as his arms remained locked around her. "I honestly had no idea you shared my feelings…" she murmured. "And while I love the earrings, I thought that diamond was second only to your life."

"It was." His gaze burned into her, rivaling the heat of the burning torch nearby. "But you're more important than my life, Lyna. You always have been. I just wanted the right time."

And time, they would soon learn, was short and precious…

And sometimes cruel.

x-x-x-x-x

**A/N:** The majority of this chapter was written last year, but I've fixed most of the prose and lore. Hopefully I can get this thing off the ground because it's been sitting in my pending folder for far too long.


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